In the Woods
by Tigridie
Summary: It was a rule and unspoken law: Don't go in the woods.
1. Chapter 1

She hummed a note from her throat, softly singing the tune drawn from the back of her mind. she skipped with the rhythm of youth which belong only to the very young of eight and twelve. Her hair fluttered around her in veil of dusky-yellow; not quite blonde, to pale to be considered brown or black; her wide eyes shone of happy days. The hem of her spring dress flapped about her thin-girlish legs.

"Three children sliding on the ice, Upon a summers day,"She sang repeating her song. It was one in which he had not hear in a long time. He guesses she must have had an older teacher or parents. Someone old enough to remember such a song. She was five with her tiny amount of height and shapeless body at the most so it must have been one or the other in some way or form.

"It so fell out, they fell in, the rest they ran away."from beyond the street he could smell the flowers on her skin as wind brushed past his nose, the cotton of her dress; clean, crisp, white; and the faint trace of pencil shavings from her backpack of tickled pink. He wanted her to hurry along, run down the street, and disappear into a house where he could not see her. But the little thing did not do so -not at all. She walked, yes, but not down the street of Betham like he wished her to, no, she turned the corner between a parting in the trees. flattened brown leaves and speckled sprigs of grass crawling up from the cracks. She hiked herself up and he simply watched her as she did. Twigs snapped under her feet, some brittle as bone while other tough as nails. He sighed, it really was a shame. Somewhere in a distant part of his mind a part disagreed. He wasn't particularly lonely. Had he wanted to he could have left her alone if he so chose too. But he simple wanted not too. No reasoning behind it. It had been a long time since anything had kept him company. She was just there; right place, maybe she would consider it the wrong time though, had she know he was there or maybe not. Now all he had to do was play the right part.

"Now, had these children been at home, or sliding on dry ground,"He ran across the street, quick as a fugitive (which he was somewhere in the world), following swiftly behind in the evening shade, a hood over his head, and the skin of his face sheltered her crept behind her silent like the night. He felt like one of those creepers who chased after little kids, slinking around the way he was.

"Ten thousand pounds to one penny, They had not all been drowned."

"Hey kid you shouldn't be up here." He says evenly, She jumped, spun on her heel and faced him. her twin plaits of blonde bouncing as she did so. She appear startled her young face flushed with a kind of colored embarrassment. Why she was embarrassed he didn't know.

"-I-I'-m sorry-y, I didn't know." she mumbled sheepishly, her head ducked low, her eyes diverted away a even more color rising to her lilly-white cheeks.

"It's fine," he says in return, he need to get this along quicker,

"What are you doing put here, the woods isn't a place for kids, this trail leads to the mountains anyways." He presses her, move to quickly and one would startle a kid. It was after all the woods, shadowy dark woods, she was young and with a stranger, she probably shouldn't have stopped at all to even speak to him. What where they teaching kids these days? Distantly he wondered him he asked her to jump in the back of a van would she do it? Not likely...or so he hoped. A child, especially a girl-child, should know better- he thought so at least.

"Ummm-W-well I-"

"You where?"

"I was just going to my house..." she whispered shyly, she was a little older than he had guessed, from across the lane she looked a measly five, up close like this she was older; a small range between nine and thirteen. Still a child none the less he had to remind himself- not that he was old to begin with either. Bird chirps grew soft with a breeze carrying the sound of sweet cantrella laughter from the school grounds not that far from them, a few children still awaiting the arrival of parents or staying after school for some reason or another. The girl shifted from foot to foot:

"You live up here?" he asked her, for a fraction of his brain didn't believe that in the least, nobody lived up near White Cross hill. He did; he owned the place after all; all the land between Betham Road and the very foot of the White Mountain herself. She started to stutter again.

"No, I live on San Pedro Street, I take the short cut through here." her small voice was soft than a feather on his ears, it had evened but he could still her the shyness within, and under tremble. She was afraid of him some way or another as she should have been.

"Lots of bad things have happened to kids in there woods you know." He told her sternly, the little girl looked up at him in surprise and bewilderment, as if she had not heard of such a thing before hand.

"Like what?"

"Like what?" he repeated the question himself, was this child truly so sheltered? No wonder she cut through the woods and even stopped to chat with an absolute stranger. Her parents would later grieve over leaving out bits of information like that.

"Did you not know? When I was younger a boy came up in these woods, he was an immigrant and didn't know all the bad things that happened here. He got dared by older boys to go up the house at the foot of White Mountain and steal something from there. Along the way he vanished," -He'd snapped his fingers together to emphases the story's character's disappearance- " and nobody ever heard from again," She looked a little startled from his small tale, it was half-bull-shit too, none the less it gave off the effect he wanted.

"Is that really true?" she asked with a wonder, leaning closer, he thought for a second she was cute with her wide green eyes confused between curiosity and fear. She was scared of him he was sure. But even he could see she was intrigued as well. She had yet to run. Yet to scream or even remotely try in any way. In all honestly he wondered what was wrong with this kid. Young she may be,he pointed out again, but foolish she should not be. His parents would have beat him with a stick had he enter woods, which he did and deeply regretted.

"Yes, it is, you shouldn't be here." he repeated this again, he knew it wouldn't matter in the long run, she wouldn't be leaving any time soon anyways or not even returning to this place again.

"Oh," was all she said before looking at him straight in the eye -something that surprised him. "Will you walk me though the woods then?" she suggested innocently. It was perfect. Not to be obvious he turned his head sideways as if to glance along the road in a mock dissension they way he had seen his father act when attempting to make a decision he wasn't sure about.

"All right, but, no more coming into the woods like this okay?"

"Okay!" she latched her little arms around one of his and pointed to somewhere over the nearby by incline of earth, a place where the trees where thinned and little grass grew from the dust-soil. "Oh mister!"

"What?"

"Well I was wondering...What's your name?" she looked at him with those eyes of hers, young circular eyes, that resembled his own in a estranged way. He looked to the sky above them; beyond the breaks in the leaves where blue hovered high above their heads and swirled with white-cotton clouds that spoke so clearly of spring. iHis name.../i

"My name is Vash." He then said to look down again, "What is yours?"

"Lilly." she responded; quick as a humming bird in her response; he almost felt bad for her. She didn't know much being so young. She that would change eventually he was sure but all the same it just tickled him the wrong way. A harsh thing it was like the scrapping of long nails over a chalk board. Then again not everything could be roses and daisies.

"All right Lilly let's take you home."

xXx

"Whoa, Arthur, did you hear!"

Slamming his fist into his classmate's desk Arthur almost jumped into the celling. The speaker waved a roll of paper wrinkling in his fist in front of his nose like a man tempting a dog with a bone. Wet print smeared from the rain pouring by the buckets outside. The boy himself dripped from rain and was covered in mud up to his knees, his tennis shoes completely browned with earth and motor-oil. For a second Arthur wonder where the fire was but knowing his friend he was going to find out whether he like it or not. Without much more than a grumbled Arthur set his book down side way with his page splayed across his desk gingerly. Crossing his arms over his chest he huffed.

"What is it now Alfred?"

Alfred groaned, His blonde brows raised, shaking the paper coil in Arthur's face again. "This!" he pointed his his free hand, splattering droplets of rain onto Arthur's face and sweater. His brows puckered; a crease that had been forming since his first meeting of Alfred growing ever deeper into his face.

"Yes, Alfred, that is called a paper."

Alfred just rolled his eyes at the comment: "No look at what it says!" Alfred smacked down the paper, unfurling over Arthur's book and throughly dampening the novel to the spine, It was a newspaper - a local one titled 'The Heta-Herald' He had seen his dad reading it a lot these days, never reading it for himself. Plastered over the front page a big doe-eyed, black and white splotched cow; chewing cud for the camera.

"Local Dairy Farm Gets Business Boom? Are you serious Alfred?" He reached out to take the newspaper, in attempt to humor Alfred despite his disinterest in dairy-cows. Alfred instead ripped the paper from his desk bringing it close to his bespectacled face, he mumble something, flipped three pages and threw it down again. This time pointing directly as a picture of small mousy girl with a pretty bow tied to the side of her blonde head. She was in the missing person's column labeled as a runaway from what Arthur could tell at this angled -backwards.

"Lilly ran away." he says bluntly, moving hid finger up one picture, to a boy this time: brown-haired and grinning, his fingers held up in a peace-sign Arthur thought as foolish. "So did this guy one town over!" Alfred exclaimed, Arthur only shook his head. He had met Lilly before. She was sweet and a very shy, it was hard to think about her running away to anywhere -she just didn't have it in her; so he thought. The other guy he didn't know -that one kinda looked like a stoner...

"Wow, I didn't think Lilly had it in her...: he trailed off meaningfully, in the hope Alfred would drop the topic altogether. Didn't seem right to talk about somebody like that, if she didn't run away she was missing. Missing meant kidnapped or killed or kidnapped then killed or killed then Kidnapped? He didn't know, He didn't want to know. Alfred, however, wasn't about to let it slip by -not on Arthur's life anyways.

"She doesn't!" he says, "Gilbert said his brother saw Lilly go into the woods with some dude!"

Now, that was stupid: Thought Arthur, Lilly was a good kid she wouldn't go into the woods with a stranger unless she knew them. Their was also the fact that Alfred got this information from that freaky, freshmen Gilbert, who got his information from his younger brother in sixth grade! But if it came right down to it he would trust Gilbert's little brother over Gilbert himself. Ludwig was a inflexible, stiff-backed little guy, wouldn't lie to anybody about anything. While Gilbert was...well...Gilbert. No words could describe him and be good.

"You are aware you got this from Gilbert, right?"

"Yeah, but still, we should crack this mystery-!"

"What are you five?" Arthur snapped, sliding his book from his desk, dog-earring the corner of the page and slipping it into his backpack of minty green, zipping it up tight. He stood up then. Alfred looking at him with round blue puppy-eyes. "Alfred that worked when we where six not thirteen!"

"Fine but then you have to help me clean out my mom's storage closet instead." Alfred declared, Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred stood firm, some of the noon-sun catching fire to his golden-brown hair, something he always had a bit of envy in. You see Alfred was always what the girls called a 'ten' (capital 'T'if he borrowed the words of Cheyenne; a girl in their homeroom class) and he was a 'two' (lower case 't'; borrowed from the mouths of those snarky bitches Alexa and Andrea - Gym Class) he didn't really like girls much but that remained a good-sized thorn in his side anyways. He still didn't want to clean anything in Alfred's house no matter what his number was!

"Like hell I will! Do it yourself, she's your mother!"

"Come on Artie, Or else I'll tell everybody you need loony-meds!" Alfred teased.

"Fine...and that's a lie!"Alfred swung his arm over Arthur's neck and stuck put his tongue childishly.

"Who everybody gonna believe? You? Nah and don't look at me like that you know they won't, now after school wait for me."

Arthur glowered darkly. "Fine."

xXx

Hi~! hehe I put this down thinking i wouldn't touch it again but it was teasing me, so, I had to come back...Just under a new name and a little more thought out than before.

Your thoughts would be much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur never did like the rain.

It flood the streets, swamped the yards, made treacherous whirlpools along the drain lines and drenched him through his coat. He liked to be clean and rather disliked dirt. Alfred had always been on the other side of the coin when they where since grade schools he was always covered from head to toe in mud, grass,water, juice, soda, glue, what he hoped was mud, and paints of various colors. He could even recall the first time he met Alfred in the principals office, he was their because he bit his older brother on the arm after he was teased about keeping unicorn stickers in his folder. Alfred came in after him covered with paints and grass stains, his hands had been blue, his face white, and the tips of his fingers and shirt splotched with ruby red that made him look like he was bleeding. According to the story Arthur was told he tried to paint the american flag on a table top because it was to awesome for only one piece of paper. That was kindergarten, long story short they didn't get along well cramped up in that little room.

Likewise he didn't care if rained, snowed, or hailed, He didn't care if the wind sent blisters in to his bones; sure enough if a tornado ripped through town he would have dragged Arthur through to see it in action and probably would have killed them both in the process. Speaking of dragging...

"I can walk on my own Alfred!" Arthur protested for the ninth time, digging his heel in the sidewalk and pulling back his arm in sharp little thrusts, yanks, and pulls; movement that barely even jostled Alfred's arm.

"Yeah, Yeah, I hear ya but your too slow." Alfred trucked on with Arthur as the breaks. Little changed from way back when they where the same height. Yes, even back then Alfred dragged in though good weather, bad weather and everything in between.

"Am not!" He argued, wringing his own wrist between Alfred's fingers, fleshing pinking under his grip. but no matter how he twisted the angle wan't right for his to slip through.

"Yes you are and where already here anyways!" They where parked exactly in front of Alfred's house actually, Arthur hadn't realized it either until that moment and as always Alfred's house lived up to it name.

Alfred's house was also called more than just 'Alfred's house' or 'Stephanie's house' it was named 'Nine House' unofficially by every body in town. It was old and rickety the world's oldest church, made of wood and brick and sometime he swore it groaned like a man in pain of collapsing. It was so bad Alfred's mom Stephanie was constantly reassuring Arthur's own mother that Nine House was perfectly safe and hazard free. Of course, that was believable coming from her mouth that is, she was raised in that house, her mother was raised in there and her mother before her, hell, Alfred was born in the upstairs bathtub for crying out loud! Still running around the same floor boards that his mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother did when they where young and new. Nine house was consider haunted for every one of their generations and beyond. What exactly happened there Arthur didn't know. Sometime he though nobody knew but the chills it gave off looming with thick, gray storm clouds over the roof top and groaning pillars whispered evil things to him. Alfred could care less and thought it as the only home he'd ever known. That plus Arthur knew that Alfred was proud of it, somehow.

That didn't stop him from saying: "Alfred your house is creepy." Alfred released his hand and knocked him with his fist in the shoulder. It hurt but he wouldn't say so, ever, Alfred had enough to hold over his head, he didn't need anymore.

"Whatever, you've spent the night before and didn't complain then, Now, to the closet!" He latched on Arthur again, pulling him up the path of his house, past the brushes that line the yard like a maze and up weedy steps, all the way up to the grand front door of dark wood. It creaked when he opened it but he let go of Arthur's hand, who stepped in before him. He wasn't scared of Nine house, only little kids where. He was in the sixth grade and been coming over since kindergarten

"I know that-"

"Hey boys!" the voice came from what Alfred and Stephanie always called a parlor but what Arthur and his mother called a living room. She came out with the smell of perfume, he caught a glimpse of her pale hair from the corner before the rest of her pretty face. They had just knocked off their shoes as her face had appeared. She was always very funny about them trekking mud in the house...well she was funny about when Alfred trekked mud through the house, Arthur never did and she knew that.

"Hey mom,"

"Hi, Miss Jones,"

"You guys hungry? I called in a pizza just before you came in." She says stepping out from the curve of wall, tossing a butter-cream lock behind her ear. Arthur liked Alfred's mom and so did his own mother, they had been friends back when they where young too, Stephanie was a lot like Alfred in a lot of ways but they had their difference. For example her hair was paler than Alfred's had ever been where is was dark-tawny like a lion's mane. While hers had the look of that thread from a fairytale he heard when he was little. the one about the troll who tried to steal a girl's first born baby after spinning straw into golden thread for her. He picture the thread to be like stars- the color of stars that is.

"I know I am, what about you Artie?"

"Sure," Arthur agreed as a small rambling bloomed from the bottom of his stomach, He'd forgotten his lunch at home that day, he didn't eat much but with only an apple floating around in his system he was starved. Stephanie bobbed her head in a short nod, her features suddenly pinching together like knit-work.

"Alfred did you do the closet yet?" she asked him sternly, Arthur didn't need to turn his head to feel Alfred shiver in his shoes -Alfred sometimes feared his mother; pretty she was, but a short fuse was connected to that beauty too; a bejeweled time bomb.

"About that...Umm...Arthur said he would help me...so...-"

"So what Alfred Jones?" she tapped her foot on the floor board in an impatient rhythm that made Alfred uncomfortable and pressured.

"So we are going to go do it right now?" Stephanie nodded her head firmly, slowly, in the way that mother's often did to mean: You better.

Arthur thought it was kind of pathetic on a couple different levels. Alfred was the small height as his tiny mother who was short. In a way it funny too seeing a guy like Alfred get bossed around and forced to squirm under pinched eyes. It was even more funny consider just last week Arthur had seen Alfred duke it out with Ivan; the biggest kid in the class; when he was harassing Toris.

"Yeah! Let's go Artie!" With that Alfred took no hesitation in looping his arm around Arthur's smaller shoulders, roping him into a lead made of his arm. He drug Arthur around the parlor's corner away from his mother. They where up the stairs in a flurry, Arthur could see a pale flashy smear of blue and blonde between the thin pillars lining the stairwell. He could see her little bleary glare before Alfred hauled him up even further up each dark maple step.

"What the hell Alfred, quick pulling on me!" Arthur snapped upon reaching the last step, Alfred whirled in head to the side, out on to the openness of the upper room. It was flat and empty as the parlor below, with lamps (oil lamps, oddly enough) and a large flat bed facing the open window...oh.

Alfred put his fingers to his lips and looked back at Arthur to met his eyes: "Shhh! Granny's not good with noise!" he reminded Arthur removing the fingers from his lips, carefully he tip-toed by with Arthur right behind.

The room smelled of Death; sour, thick, rot. He knew it from before, it came from the skin of the old woman he knew lay in the bed by the window; soaking up sun from a gray sky like a grape shriveling into a raisin; he didn't need to see her to know she was there. The old woman was Alfred's great-grandmother Elle, he didn't know if that was her full or not but it was printed on all the pill bottles that littered the table top at her bedside. She's had a stroke two years ago and been nothing more than a yellow breathing corpse since. Stephanie's mother died when she was four and burst into tears that day. Arthur could still clearly recall Alfred's mom crying all over his, her face splotched with red and big purple rings around her eyes. She didn't know what to do in that situation and was sad seeing her on borderline hysteria. For a grand total of four minutes the poor old woman was clinically dead and was now kept alive solely by a feeding tube and was more vegetable than women.

"Yeah, I know," Arthur says as the creep like spies past old Elle, she doesn't twitch, she doesn't move but they can hear the slow ragged breaths that ripple in her chest like Nine House sometimes dose when they run the heater down in the basement during the winter.

They swept past her like they did Stephanie into the next room slipping soundless behind the door, Arthur shut it and it hisses at him with it's hinges. Alfred's house made more noise than Alfred did sometimes not matter how carefully one placed his foot on the ground or how softly he shut a door. It was inevitable and quite honestly drove Arthur nuts half the time.

"Hey Alfred didn't your mom make you clean out the closet last friday?" Arthur said with a huff, in he thought back on it he remember Alfred complaining about cleaning out a closet a week ago, however considering how big and old Nine house was he wouldn't be the least bit shocked in there was an extra nook or cranny hidden around somewhere amongst the dusty corners and untouched rooms.

"Yeah, but she says now I have to do Granny's closet now. said somethin' about not being able to do it herself." He pointed to a closet next to a thin vacant bed. "She also said if we do it it in less than an hour we get twenty bucks a pop so I see it as a win-win!"

Arthur fought hard not to roll his eyes back at that, but Alfred had a point a twenty was a twenty no matter what she was trying to bribe away from doing.

"All right so what is it exactly he have to do then?"

"Just put things out on the bed and bring anything like pictures downstairs for her to go though- don't want us throwin' out something important." Alfred says with a shrug, He crossed the room, pulled open the door with quite a bit of the force; tugging on it like her had Arthur's arm just a moment ago. Arthur stifled a short giggled under his breath,

Not such a hot-shot with doors,: He thought cheekily. He wasn't going to lie it was just straight fun to watch Alfred struggled with anything; Math Problems, Doors, his mother, anything. Alfred got him back with the small factor that he was always good with the girls and other kids; people in general; and Arthur was not.

"Do you think we can get through it in an hour?" By judging at hid distance Arthur could tell it was most certainly not a small closet.

"Probably not but we won't know till we try." Alfred encouraged tugging free the hinges that screamed at him with rusty breaks. It made Arthur's ear bleed -that sound. If Arthur could have never heard it again for the rest of his life he would have but in his mind he knew as long as he kept coming over to Alfred's house he would hear it plenty more times.

As the door swung open they could both fell the clot of dust clog their lungs, a sheen on thing dirt falling onto Alfred's golden head made him cough and hack up dust. A cloud of dust would be an understatement, it was Dustopia in there Arthur thought as a sniff of grime fluttered up his nostril. He coughed once to clear his own throat before speaking again; didn't think he could without clearing it first.

"What the hell Alfred! When was the last time anybody cleaned that thing!" he screeched at Alfred. Between the sheer amount of dust, cobwebs and mothballs rolling out of the closet's gaping mouth he would have guessed it was before Elle ever had a stroke; had Alfred said it was before he was even born it wouldn't be a shocker either!

"Beats me..."

"Wait to go you idiot! this is going to take forever to clean up!" Alfred gave an odd sigh; he didn't sigh as often as Arthur had the habit down more than he ever did; up turned his head into the bottomless pit of clothes, boxes and mothballs.

"...Damn..." was all Alfred said much to Arthur's displeasure; then again He was never one to calculate a step before taking it, just took it and hoped he didn't fall flat on his ass every time "Every other time would be awesome," he was declared.

Alfred squatted at the door frame; Arthur half-hoped he would stand up and knock his head into the dulled over door knob above him, unfortunately karma wasn't working with him. He drug his finger over the planks that made up of the floor, the skin of his fingers graying with old soot. He clicked his tongue to his teeth and looked out, beyond the boxes and tossed about clothes. The whole thing was like a bad version of the Narnia wardrobe minus the magical land in the back which Alfred seemed to be looking for with that far off gaze.

"I think we can do it!"

For the seventeenth time in their friendship Arthur suppressed the need to reach over a swat him upside the head. It was a hopeless job! There was at least a half of a lifetimes worth of his Great-Grandmother's clothing plus some with the short little boxes of treasures and things. Forget the money and the food he was getting out of there, Alfred could deal with it by himself Arthur had his own chores do deal with at his house he needed to do.

"You can do it, I'm going home." Alfred whined loudly at this standing and running to block the bedroom's door his lanky arms stretched from frame panel to frame pale, his legs parted and spine bent like a goalie's.

"Come on, you said you would help me." He protested, Arthur huffed, crossed his arms and scrunched up his brows in disbelief.

"No, you dragged me from school, through the rain, and brought me here." Arthur corrected, Alfred frowned; racking the brain the best he could; help was what he needed, Rue wasn't his on-call gal anymore (In fact he hadn't heard from her in a week) and Im Yong Soo would probably wreck the place or wake up his Granny. That plus he owed Im Yong Soo's older brother twenty bucks even and that guy didn't give him a break about it -He would pay him back...eventually.

"Why do you get your brother to help you instead?" That wasn't a funny suggestion on so many different levels he couldn't even count them. Matthew wasn't exactly on good terms with his at the exact moment; Arthur knew that too!

"You know Matt's still mad about me gluing the dog to the car!"

Really Alfred?: he thought thick with sarcasm, He swore Alfred must think he is perpetually seven years old with some of the things he did sometimes. Stupid, loud annoying acts that got nobody nowhere in anything- his supposedly he was good with 'revenge' but Arthur wouldn't believe that until he saw it with his own two eyes. "And you wonder why he hates you?"

"Seriously Pleases-!"

"Begging isn't going to help anymore!"

"Please!"

"No,"

"I won't give Hong anymore Firecrackers if you do!" Arthur was about to say 'no' again and try and force his way out (he knew he wouldn't get far; Alfred was stronger than he is.) but the idea of that little runt not popping off those obnoxious firecrackers whenever he fell asleep on the couch intrigued him. Of course, he knew Hong wouldn't ever stay quite and would find a new supplier for his tiny habit as quickly as he could, the thought of a couple days with put 'papap-pop', 'boom' and every kind of frizzling sound was, Arthur would admit, a good bribe.

"You swear on you life?"

"I swear!" Arthur admits Alfred could 'beg' pretty well when it came right down to it. Arthur weighed Alfred's word for a moment; he didn't see why it would be bad; Alfred was only bad when it came with handling money and it was mainly other's people too -not his. This particular case didn't involve money...well they would earn it he supposed, but not in the same way, or other people that may or may not harass them later on. Arthur had enough of that already.

"All right but where?" He asked, there was so much clutter he didn't even know where to start. The boxes on the floor? The mess of knotted clothes and scarves?

"No Idea."

"They where right when they said your elevator doesn't reach the top floor weren't they?"

"That's ridiculous," he says back, Arthur could have sworn Alfred was looking at him like he was a idiot behind the lenses of his glasses, "You know we don't have a elevator in here!"

Arthur really did hope for his own sanity Alfred was joking...

"Let's just start with the clothes OK?"

xXx

It took a grand total of forty minutes to clean out more than half of the closet. Alfred's mother had stopped them only once and brought pizza to them. By then most of Elle's skirts and blouses where sorted out on the bed top with a few boxes of picture frames at the foot of the bed. She was supposed to Alfred and Arthur covered in dust, the stuff covered their hands and had clotted their hair. She said that she was sorry and had no idea what a big job she had given them and that she would give them the money even of they didn't finish it on time. To which both Arthur and Alfred where happy about. After she a left and they finished their slices of warm pizza they had very little left to do other that one more clump of clothes and four other lumpy boxes.

"Hey Alfred do you think there's a reason why she kept all this stuff?" Arthur asked him, he was on his knees, crouched in front of one of the four remaining boxes -No picture-frames in this one. This one was full of toys oddly enough. He picked up a faded solider made of a dusky wood that poked from splotches in which the paint had melted away from age. The little solider frowned at him and he frowned right back at it.

"Eh...Granny was a pack-rat, me and mom don't think she ever got rid of anything." Alfred says plucking up another solider himself. This one grinning and in blue (Arthur's was red) his bitty stick gun across his back.

"I can see that."Arthur remarked watching Alfred put the little solider back in the box and shoving his hands back into the box in front of him. He turned back to his own box, more little soldiers, wooden boats and a roughed up looking horse, he guesses some of these toys where probably older than Elle was with the way they where made. All of them looked like something a farm kid from one of his books would have played with that Elle would have played with as a girl- then again he didn't exactly know how old Elle was to begin with. She was Alfred's Great-Grandmother... Arthur still continued to wonder: How old would that make her then?

He decided to just to ask Alfred than try a figure it out in his head. Alfred would probably know anyways: "Alfred how old is-"

"Whoa check this thing out!" Arthur twisted his neck to see Alfred with a large blocky thing that looked like a camera of some sort. It was big and bulky, it took him a minute to even register in his mind that it even was a camera. Only another second to name it.

"It's an old Super 8."

"What the fuck is a Super 8?"

"It a kind of old camera, stupid." Arthur responds, with how old his house is Arthur would admit he was surprised that Alfred didn't already know what it was already. They still used bloody oil lamps still! Alfred sat there with the Super 8 in both hands turning it over a few times as if it where some alien contraption. His eyes widened a little as a thought entered his mind.

"Hey this is what they used to use to make movies with ain't it?"

Arthur sighed, it was probably true, he knew what it was, not it function: "I guess so." He leaned over to peek into Alfred box; No pictures again, cartridges and cassette tapes filled shoe boxes within the box, sorted already with match boxes with colorful faded print randomly scattered though out this box had replaced them.

She must have really been into filming when these first came out.

"Think it still works?" Alfred asks, holding up the Super 8 so the lenses met his eye, on eyes shut in exception. Arthur just shrugged,

"Probably not those thing came out in the 60's the films might..."

"Dude check it out one has your name on it!" Alfred had dropped the camera to land on his lap, pointing to a placed center the cartridge row with a sticker that read in smeared marker 'Kirkland'.

"That's weird..." Gingerly he picked up the cartridge, they all had names, some just numbered but others had actual names; people's names: Jenna, October 1966, Abigail, Roderich, Joan, September 13th. 'Kirkland' had been sung between, Jenna and Abigail.

Alfred grinned: "Damn I knew you where older than me but I didn't know you where a dinosaur Artie." He teased playfully, Arthur glowered darkly at him, it went unnoticed by him though, for he shuffled further into the box.

"I wonder what's on it..." Arthur thought aloud, It had his last name on it, but his family had just moved from England right when he was born. Then again he considered the fact that Kirkland was a common enough surname here in the states as much as it was back in the U.K.

"Me too, let's see if there's a projector in here...they needed those right?"

"Yes, they do." Arthur confirmed, although Alfred didn't need any conformation to tear through the two boxes they had yet to touch. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was intrigued by this other Kirkland the way Alfred was throwing thing around, stirring up even more dust, and thankfully no more mothballs (those thing reek rather badly).

"Theres no projector." Alfred huffed above his clatter. Arthur gave another sigh, it was too bad really he was a little curious about this other Kirkland old Elle had known.A gasp from Alfred nearly startled him.

Please don't be another dead bird hat! He pleaded to himself. Those where just wrong and he didn't want Alfred to toss another one in his face again. The canadian goose with beady marble eyes and extra bendy neck was enough for him, thank you ever much.

"I know where there is one though!" Arthur gave him a confused look. Who else would have a projector for a Super 8? No one he knew that was for sure, they where more or less out dated.

"Where would that be exactly Alfred, these thing aren't exactly 'happening right now' as you would put it."

"Yeah, but who do we know who always have old stuff like this?"

"You."

Alfred glared. "Besides me." he says simply, "Think of someone whose small, asian, and hates you." Arthur could have sworn that the worry-line just got a little deeper set in his skin.

"Wang."

xXx

Just movin' along like an old steam-boat.


End file.
